Ding Dong The Witch is Dead, Now What?
by Corvette Lead
Summary: Suppose Vogler's departure created an unusual situation for House. How would it play out?
1. Chapter 1

9:45 p.m., Tuesday, The Oak Room, TPC Jasna Polana

There was no question in House's mind that the clicking heels and sharp, exotic perfume scent that cut through the smoky air in the bar could only belong to Lisa Cuddy. Even though the club was busy for a Tuesday night, Cuddy's presence was immediately apparent, and there was no question why she was marching in his direction. No question at all.

Tonight's Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital Board of Directors meeting had probably been House's Waterloo. Between his constant jabs at Vogler and his blistering speech at the drug rep meeting it would be a close race to see which event was the proverbial last straw.

By his own estimation the board had considered his lengthy history and Vogler's pledged $100 million bucks and voted his ass off the island. Oddly enough the thought didn't bother him at all.

The clicking heels stopped, and House could sense Cuddy's presence over his left shoulder.

"It's a private club Cuddy. I'm surprised you got past the foyer, but now that you're here say what you've got to say then leave." The delivery was as flat and devoid of emotion as anything House had ever said to his boss.

The dark haired woman slid onto the bar stool to House's left and signaled the bartender. "Bring us a bottle of Cristal on his tab." With a quick nod the whiskey tender made his way to the back for the high test champagne. "On the getting in thing, it's easy when you are a member. It's the same way you got in."

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear Cuddy. You may tell me I'm fired then leave. I don't need a $550 bottle of bubbly to ease the pain that I won't be having over being deep sixed."

She reached out with her right hand and turned his head to face her. When she spoke her normal 'House' voice was suspiciously absent. Her voice was a little husky, but there was a steel bar running through it. "I'm not going to talk to the side of your head. I may put up with your bullshit at the hospital, but not here. It's not a lot of effort. Turn very slightly to your left and look at me. You might find something to look at, or at worst someone to talk with."

Allowing his head to be turned, House simply looked placidly at his inquisitor.

"House, let me give you a few words to think about: Ding, dong, the SOB is dead. Let your imagination run."

One corner of Cuddy's mouth turned up slightly as House's brow knitted up in thought.

He couldn't help himself and the question just seemed to jump into the air: "Lisa, what the hell happened?"

"For the first time in history," Cuddy laughed, "you should have been at a board meeting. Wilson goaded Vogler into an epic meltdown. The big bully did everything but chew the carpet. It was a sight, and you missed it." Then she turned deadly serious, "Wilson saved you ass tonight. He was the only one, and he saved you ass.

"Now, here's what's going to happen: you and I, Greg and Lisa, are going to sit here and kill this bottle of fabulous champagne. We sit in companionable silence and get toasted, or we can at least play like real adults who have known each other for years and sit and shoot the breeze. Your call."

The balance of the evening started slowly, but by the time Wilson tracked them down House and Cuddy were the life of the club.

As they headed out the door Cuddy pinned House to the foyer wall with a well lacquered finger.

"House my office at 8:45. Be there on time, or so help me I won't fire you. I'll send your sorry ass up the road to the med school as a lecturer. I'm sure your tenure will help get a better teaching assignment, and I will be waiting to read your published research work.

"My office, 8:45 a.m. or you will become Professor House."

He couldn't stop the involuntary shiver that ran through his body at the thought.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

8:44:15 a.m., Dr. Cuddy's Office, Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital

Cuddy was sitting facing the windows when House thumped through the door without knocking and ambled across the office to flop into a chair in front of Cuddy's desk. "Yes, mistress I am here as ordered." He looked a little frayed around the edges, and the Intimidator wrap around dark glasses were a silent witness to the condition of his eyes. On top of the lack of sleep, the champagne hangover was killing him.

"How may I serve you?"

Lisa Cuddy always made it a point to look good. In fact, if she didn't look fabulous at any time she was pissed. This time was the exception. When she slowly spun her chair around she looked like five miles of bad road. Bloodshot, tired eyes were framed by her hair that was pulled back into a messy pony tail. A lack of makeup and Princeton tennis warm up suit completed her very casual attire.

"House, it must be a wonderful feeling to know exactly what you are worth to this hospital. You are obviously worth one hundred million fucking dollars. One hundred million! That's what we pissed away last night when Vogler had his spiteful fit. After he had his rant the university representative on the board said she had seen enough and moved to not accept Vogler's money based on the strings he obviously had attached. The motion passed by three votes.

Cuddy's voice got stronger and moved up a couple of octaves as she plowed into House.

"Last night should never have happened. Never. Vogler may have ultimately wanted to run this hospital like a Nazi. His interest may have been more in making money than healing. He may have been an egotistical son of a bitch, but, House, it was one hundred million fucking dollars!

"You probably don't believe this, but I could have handled Vogler one-on-one. He couldn't be managed with you always pushing his buttons because he was unpredictable…just like you are.

"All you had to do was stay out of the way; work your magic in diagnostics, and not actively to antagonize the bastard. That was just too much to ask wasn't it? You couldn't help yourself, so you just kept poking, prodding, and picking until it came to a showdown.

"Then it was Wilson, calm, reasonable, rational Wilson, who rose up and became House reincarnate at the board meeting. He pushed Vogler around the room on ethics, long term health care objectives, the hospital's future, and a ton of other shit until Vogler just freaking blew up like Krakatoa. That was the last straw for Dr. Moncreif, and she pulled the plug."

By now Cuddy's diatribe had started to stop traffic in the hallway.

House tried to jump into the Cuddy's monologue. He didn't get far. "Greg, sit down and shut up. I'll let you know when I'm through yelling at you.

"I know money doesn't mean anything to you. Hell, you don't even have a frame of reference. The interest alone on your inheritance has got to be worth a couple of hundred grand a year, and I don't even want to think about what you pull in from the other crap you are involved with. And the cherry on top of the whipped cream, on top of the hot fudge, on top of the damn ice cream is the two hundred large a year you draw here.

"Yeah, I know it's just money, but Vogler's gift could have been real money that we need for facilities, people, research, and all kinds of stuff. But, you couldn't get past the fact that Vogler was a horse's ass. When it became a contest of wills there was probably no doubt that you would win even it was the biggest Pyrrhic Victory in medical history." With that Cuddy was spent and flopped back into her chair staring through House.

Still a little rocked back on his heels by the assault House without thinking shrugged slightly, and that got Cuddy rolling again.

"Okay wise ass, here's what's going to happen now: You are responsible for coming up with the $10 million a year for the next 10 years, and I don't give a rat's ass how you do it…as long as it doesn't land all of us in jail. Use all of that natural intellect and cunning and raise the damn money. In fact, just to make it even more worthwhile to you personally when your fund raising reaches $10 million in any given year you're off clinic duty for the balance of that year.

"Now, get out and let me think!"

Author's note – Okay gang, I've got some ideas on how House will raise the money, but I'm really interested in how you think House can meet his goal and escape the slings and arrows of clinic duty.

CL


End file.
